


new beginnings

by lotuschae



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: (a bit), Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Finding a Family, Hurt Justin Foley, Implied Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Justin Foley needs a hug, Past Sexual Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-08-27 18:17:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 10,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16707589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotuschae/pseuds/lotuschae
Summary: Snapshots of Justin's new life at the Jensen's





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this a long time ago and thought "hey why not post some of it" so here u go  
> most of it wont really hang together to form any plot just FYI
> 
> some will be short some will be a bit longer  
> general tw for the whole thing, as in the show just less graphic suicides
> 
> ALSO i'm posting all the ones i got on my laptop now at once so

Living with the Jensens had always been strange, but after the adoption officially came through it became even stranger.

The first few nights after he moved in they gave him the guestroom to permanently live in. It felt weird to stay in there and be able to call it his - though he never called it his, it felt too unreal - after all the months in juvie, and the months on the streets, and the years living in a home he barely could call a home.

He was happy he got privacy, though. He was used to sharing sleeping spaces by now, but he liked space. Back when he lived with his mom and her sketchy boyfriends, it used to be the thing that made him feel safe; only a locked door separating him from danger.

He sat down on the bed one afternoon after school, day two after officially getting his own room, listening to the Jensens coming home. Clay was already in the shower and Justin did not argue about who got to use it first. He was honestly happy just having a shower to use. He listened to a pair of feet coming up the stairs and stopping in front of his door, a tentative knock on the frame before someone tried to open it.

They did not succeed, because Justin had locked it out of habit, so he cursed and jumped up to unlock it before they got the time to panic. He did not want them to assume he did heroin again. (That was a lie, of course, but they did not need to know that.)

Mrs Jensen stood on the other side, careful smile on her face. "I'm sure Clay have told you how we feel about locked doors in this house?"

The way she said it felt general and more like an _I want to know you trust me so that I can trust you_ thing, but Justin was not able to get that rational part of his brain to work with the rest. This was the same speech that had been given to him countless times when he lived with his mom. His eyes narrowed suspiciously, but at the sight of the worry in her eyes he dropped it. She wasn't his mom or his mom's boyfriends. He did not believe they would hurt him as they'd have countless opportunities to do. Though, he recalled a few of his mom's boyfriends had tried the same tactic - lured him into a sense of security before ripping it away.

"Sorry, I, uh... It's just habit. I used to lock the door at... at my mom's place," he said. It was all she would get for now. Clay knew some of it, and he was sure they had asked him for everything he knew before adopting Justin. There was little in the file with his social worker. A few bruises, a worried call from a neighbour... nothing that really painted a picture of his home life. He had to admit he was kind of curious on what Clay's parents knew. He was not about to add much more to their image, not yet. He didn't know how long he had until whatever trust he could build for them would be wasted.

Mrs Jensen nodded thoughtfully. "Alright," she said. "You don't need to do that here, Justin. We will always knock before entering your room, and we will not snoop around in your stuff when you are not here."

He hated that it sounded so reassuring. Hated that he believed it. He saw her eyes shift to the rest of his room, then snap back at him to make it look she had never looked. There was not much to see. All of Justin's belongings were in the duffle bag. His schoolbooks were stacked on a drawer. The room did not look like he lived there. No stuff to snoop.

"It's okay if you do," he said. Before Mrs Jensen could interject he continued. "You want to make sure I'm not doing heroin again and to throw it away if you find it, I know. That's what I used to do when my mo-"

He stopped right there, snapped his mouth shot before he could say anything more stupid. _Great_ , he thought. _What the fuck do you think that sounded like, Foley?_ Damn Mrs Jensen for being so easy to talk to. It had to be a lawyer thing. He was not about to continue. She was better off not knowing that he used to look for his mother's drugs at the age of six, so he could throw it all away. It was not an average six-year-old thing to do. Neither was being scared of your mother during withdrawal from her drugs being thrown away. It was a time he regretted a lot when he grew older, and a time he would not repeat to other people. Just the thought of it made him hate himself a bit more.

"Mrs Jensen, was there something you wanted?" he asked finally. She did not take the hint that he would not finish his earlier sentence.

She look unsurprised, but there was a hint of disappointment in her eyes. "We just wondered what you would like for dinner?"

They asked him that sometimes, what he would like for dinner. He had no idea how they had not gotten the point yet. He ate whatever was served to him. Food was something he never took for granted. Whatever he was given he ate, didn't care if it tasted weird or made him feel a bit sick. He learned from a young age to take what he got.

"I'm not picky," he said, as he always did.

She gave him a tentative smile. "You don't have anything in particular you would like?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I'll eat anything you got."

 


	2. 2

Dinnertimes were still strange. Not just because Justin wasn't used to it, but also because _they_ made it weird. Now, just like every other dinner, they kept sneaking glances at him they thought he didn't notice. Clay was the only one who did not look at him like he was a weirdo every time he ate too fast or held his arm around the plate as if expecting someone to take it from him. Not that he _did_ , not in this household. Old habits die hard, as they said.

"How is school?" Mrs Jensen asked in an attempt at lifting the mood.

"School's fine," Clay responded. His eyes turned suspicious. "Why are you asking?"

Mr Jensen smiled. "We're allowed to ask how it's going, especially with all that's been going on the past few months."

Justin knew they didn't know about Clay's almost suicide attempt, and even then he felt it was weird any parent would care so much. Not that he had a track record of actual good parents, but still. Were they thinking of only the trial?

"How are you, Justin?" Mr Jensen asked. And yes, there it was. Heroin. They were worried about his heroin addiction.

He shrugged. "I'm fine."

It was a trained response from all the times any of his friends asked where his bruises were from, why he limped after staying at Bryce's for a week. Before it sounded nonchalant, like the truth. Now it sounded like he wanted to hide something.

Mrs Jensens eyebrows shot up across the table, and Clay looked at him suspiciously.

"Is this because I locked the bedroom door?" he asked, put his fork down and let his hands rest in his lap. Maybe he should tell them something to deflect from heroin. The therapist they forced him to see in juvie told him that would help. The telling, of course, not the deflecting. Besides, it had felt good to tell Tony why he started with heroin. Like a weight lifted off him.

"Yes," Mr Jensen said. "Last time anyone in this house kept a door locked they hid a teenager in their bedroom, so..."

Justin almost smiled. "Yeah, uh... I'm not, like, hiding anything there," he clarified. He couldn't look at them. This was too embarrassing.

"We believe you. The things your social worker said about the meetings you went to were good. We believe you're not hiding anything."

Justin looked up, could not keep the surprise off his face. "Oh? Thanks. But I, uhm." He wasn't sure how to start, so he stared at his food again. _Just jump into it, Foley_. "I've had a habit of locking my door since I was a kid. It, uh... my mom would have angry outbursts sometimes when she was high on shit, and I told you none of her boyfriends were really nice people. They got violent towards me, sometimes. The locked door made me feel safe."

It felt good to say it out loud, like that. The silence around the dinner table was suffocating, however. Was it too much? He thought back on his words. He hadn't shared any shocking details, had he?

"Thank you for telling us," Mrs Jensen said. When he looked at her, her eyes were gentle. Both her and Mr Jensen had warm smiles. "You don't have to worry here, Justin. We will never force you to have your door unlocked until you're ready."

Clay scoffed. "Fair warning, they _will_ complain about it and ask about it a lot. Speaking from experience."

Justin surprised himself by laughing at that. The laugh was enough for the others to go back to eating, and so Justin went back to eating too. He had not shared anything they did not already suspect, but he talked about things that he liked to avoid, so it was a start.

 

 

 

 


	3. 3

Justin could not really explain his relationship to heroin. It felt incredibly good, like every poisonous thought he ever had just left his body. It also felt bad afterwards - sometimes he had really bad depressive episodes after a good high.

Whenever he shot up, like he had just did, he thought back on what his juvie therapist asked him. _Why did you think heroin was a good idea when you saw what it did to your mom?_

He didn't have an answer back then. Or he did, but didn't want to say it. He saw what it turned his mother into, of course. Saw what coming down from a high could look like, what withdrawal did, what laying around high all day did. It was not pretty. He also saw what good it did to her. Being fucked up on drugs was often when she was the happiest.

He looked at the needle he put down on the floor. No one had found his stash yet, which he found weird. He expected them to look around his room sometimes, but so far there was no evidence they had. God knows he never trusted his mom when she said she quit. How could they trust him? After all he'd done, how could _anyone_ trust him?

He leaned his head back against the frame of the bed and closed his eyes, felt the high take him. Whatever. That sounded like a post-high Justin problem.

 

-

 

When the high wore off he went back to bed, already felt the bad thoughts coming back. He buried his body deeper under the covers. They would go away, he knew that. It still hurt that all of the bad things came rushing back again. It had not felt that bad when he talked to the therapist about it, even if he was not entirely truthful to her. At least the whole Jessica thing did not weigh that much on his mind anymore. Everything else did.

He fought the urge to cry when someone knocked on his bedroom door. They had left him alone the whole day as it was Sunday. Everyone was home, and other than a quick good morning to Mrs Jensen before hopping into the shower, he had not spoken to anyone.

He heard the door handle go down, could not find the energy to check who it was. He closed his eyes, hoped they would think he slept.

He heard steps come closer to him. "Justin?"

It was Clay's voice. He expected to be jumped on or forced awake any second, but all that came was a gentle shake of his shoulders. Not expected. Justin moved a little so that Clay wouldn't think he was dead or anything. God, he did not want to add that guilt on to the Jensens.

Clay shook his shoulder a little harder and Justin forced his eyes open. "It's dinnertime. You coming?"

Justin nodded, did not trust himself to speak just yet. How suspicious did this look?

"Hey, you okay?" Clay asked.

"Yeah," Justin said. His voice didn't crack. A good sign. "Just... just tired. Couldn't sleep last night."

Luckily for him that was a believable excuse. Justin had struggled to sleep in the past, when the two of them shared rooms. He also hinted at sometimes having nightmares about all that had happened. He hoped Clay took the bait.

"Yeah, I get it," he said. "You can... talk about it, if you want. To my parents, I mean. They're pretty okay to talk to."

Justin gave him a sharp look. "While we're on the subject, how much have you told them about the night I had to take a fucking gun out of your hands?"

"Point taken. But come down to dinner before my parents ask questions."

 

-

 

He wondered sometimes why he was so anxious about messing up with the Jensens. He usually talked back to authority he did not trust or knew was dangerous and mostly had no problem fighting back. It wasn't like he had been weak in the face of his mother's boyfriends before.

(Boyfriends, because he disliked calling them abusers. He provoked them half the time, and abuse was used for actual _victims._ Justin was only a victim of his own stupidity.)

Until they got violent. He disliked violence a lot, which seemed weird with his track record of fights, but it was true. Fighting teenagers was a lot different from being beaten up by a man twice your size and twice your age. He could not remember anyone his age trying to purposely beat him to death before.

Still, he didn't _understand_ why he felt so anxious with the Jensens. He knew they would not have violent reactions - Clay already confirmed that for him. Still he felt like a wreck every time he thought he stepped over a line. He had never before felt so scared to mess up with adults. It was weird.


	4. 4

Justin could honestly say that going back to school was hard. He felt like he was behind on everything, and that even with summer school he would fail. It was not for lack of his friends trying, though.

Currently he was in the library with Zach, trying to catch up on three chapters of maths homework. Normally Justin did alright with this, but like most of his classes that was no longer the case. 'Alright' was not enough to pass now.

He put down his pen and leaned back. "I'm sorry you got to deal with this."

"Don't be," Zach said. "You've managed to get half of this right on the first try. Getting through the rest of it shouldn't be too difficult."

Justin shook his head. "It's not just this," he said. "It's everything else too. All of you are managing _fine_ , all while having jobs and shit, while I'm just sitting around in the Jensens' house doing fuck all."

"To be fair you have spent most of the year not being at school."

Justin slumped further in the chair. "Yeah, thanks."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"Yeah, I know. But it's true. Fuck, I'm going to have to do junior year all over again."

"You don't," Zach said. "Summer school is a thing, you know? You'll get through it."

Justin shook his head. "But I'll never in a million fucking years afford college. I'll be stuck here. Or I'll have to become a prostitute and live on the streets again." He really did not want to go back to the streets.

Zach laughed nervously. "Chill, you won't become a prostitute. Wait, did you say again?"

"It was a joke," he said, hoped that Zach would not notice that he couldn't meet his eyes. Of all the embarrassing things his friends knew about him, what he did to get money for heroin was not one of those things.

Justin did not like the way Zach looked at him now, like he saw through his lie. He knew that he had never been a good liar, but this was ridiculous. After everything, he really could not jump to the conclusion that Justin sold himself, could he?

"Come on, let's move to the next problem," Zach said.


	5. 5

Justin was not sure how to handle Clay's parents, even now. They cared a lot. Of course, they would not have adopted him if they didn't, but he expected them to be mostly like his mom, minus the drugs. Instead he got two adults who freaked out every time he did something that remotely reminded them of his upbringing.

Freak out was the wrong word. They did not start shouting, or run around like they were crazy. They... _reacted_ , at lack of better word. An eyebrow raise, a frown, exchanged looks. Subtle, but at the same time so obvious. Every time they did that he knew they would be discussing it when he and Clay was not at home, or when they were in bed, before they went to sleep. Therefore Justin tried to control himself, especially his choice of words and his actions.

It didn't always work out.

Being around Mr Jensen was surprisingly easy. Unlike most male adults in his life, this man was not violent, nor did he yell at people for messing up. All in all he was not very threatening.

They were all home at the same time, a rare occasion lately. Clay and Justin had just come back from eating at McDonalds, where Clay had spilt ketchup all over Justin. He had not had time to change into new clothes just yet, but luckily only his collar was red from the ketchup. "That was a brand-new shirt, Clay," Mrs Jensen, scolded, though there was nothing mean behind it. They did have a washing machine.

Clay shook his head. "It's Justin's fault! He tripped into _me_."

"I didn't react in an overdramatic way and spill ketchup on people, though," Justin responded. He lifted his glass of water to take a sip while Mrs Jensen laughed. It felt almost like a family moment, to Justin. It felt strange.

Mr Jensen entered the room, the smell of dinner for him and Mrs Jensen following him.

"What's that on your collar, Justin?" he asked. Like any ~~caring parent~~ curious man would, he reached out to touch the spot.

Justin didn't see Mr Jensen until his hand came into his vision, and he immediately flinched, hands flying up to protect himself. The glass dropped to the ground in the process. He realised his reaction too late.

"Fu- God, I'm so sorry, Mr Jensen." He immediately went to pick up the glass, was happy to see it was not broken. Afraid that the shaking of his hands might make him drop it again, he put the glass on the coffee table. "I'll go get some paper-towels."  
"No need," Clay said. He stood up. "I'll go get it."

That left Justin awkwardly half-sitting on the couch, alone with Clay's parents.

"I'm so sorry, kid. I shouldn't have done that," Mr Jensen said.

Justin shook his head, but did not look at him. "It's okay, my fault. I knew you wouldn't, like, hit me or anything."

He could sense Mrs Jensen not believing him from across the room. "Justin..."

"No, really, I did. It was just reflex. It reminded me of- it doesn't matter."

That sounded better in his head, but it would have to do for now. He glanced towards the kitchen, where Clay had been taking an abnormally long time just to get paper towels. Fuck it.

"I'll just go to my room," he said. Before the Jensens could react, he bolted upstairs.


	6. 6

Justin felt suspicious when he went home after hanging out with Sheri one day. (He still didn't know when he started calling it "home", but he liked it.) He knew Clay was not there. What he was doing he had no idea, but as long as he was not trying to murder anyone, Justin was happy.

It was highly suspicious that Clay's parents just happened to be sitting together on the sofa, waiting for someone to enter. _Fuck me_ , was his first thought. _I'm dead_ , was the second. From the looks they were giving him he could only assume that they had found his heroin, but he expected more disappointment from them than the determination in their faces.

Though, they _were_ Clay's parents. They were prone to angrily shouting at each other - something Justin had noticed, something that reminded him of home - and sometimes angrily shouting at Clay, if he had taken things too far. Justin thought heroin would be in the _too far_ category, but maybe they didn't want to anger an addict? Justin learned not to do that the hard way. Not that he thought he would attack them, but. Smart move.

He accepted his fate and waited until they registered him until he did something.

"Justin!" Mrs Jensen said. "Would you sit down? We need to talk."

He did as told and sat down in one of the recliners on the other side of the coffee table. This was it. The small amount of happiness he felt in the weeks he lived here would cease. It was only a matter of time, he had always known that, but it still sucked.

"We should have talked about this with you earlier. Before we officially adopted you actually," Mr Jensen said. Justin frowned. He had not been exposed to a lot of actual proper parents speaking to kids about drugs before, but this was not what he expected at all.

"Okay..." he said, just to fill up the space. He started nervously picking at his jacket.

Mrs Jensen slid a file over to him. He took that as an invitation to open it, and recognized it as his social work file. He had seen it once or twice with his social worker, Emily. It was just a few pictures of bruises from when he was little, complaints from teachers about lack of food at school, and other things. Most recently his drug addiction. Nothing in there was well documented, he knew. It was all what teachers said, the lies his mother told, the lies he himself told. A few pieces of his homework from younger years was in it. Like, _how was your summer_ and _what is your dream_. Stupid things that he had stupidly answered honestly, before he learned how to lie.

"It's my file," he said. What did this have to do with anything? He knew they read it before they adopted him. Possible just after he got sent to juvie, too. Why bring it up now? Then it hit him. "Oh. Is it because of my reaction the other day?"

"We want you to talk to us about the things in your file," Mrs Jensen said. "Not in detail, or anything you are uncomfortable with. The file doesn't exactly tell us a lot about you, and after your... reaction, the other day, we decided it would be wise to learn more so we can avoid more things like that in the future. We don't want you to feel afraid in this house."

That was so ridiculously nice that he almost didn't know how to react. What the hell kind of family was this? _A normal family_ , his brain supplied.

"Oh, uh..." He put down the file. "Well, my mom had bad boyfriends. They fought a lot, verbally. Sometimes physically. Sometimes to me too. Most of the time I provoked them. Like, I did things I knew would piss them off and stuff to test their limits. Some of them were violent unprovoked though, and that's why I flinched the other day. Normally I can control it, but that time it reminded me of something."

Mr Jensen scooted closer to the edge of the couch. "Reminded you of what? If I may ask."

Justin rubbed the back of his neck. "My mom's current boyfriend, Seth. Well, ex now, I guess. Last time I saw him he kind of strangled me. I pushed him too far, it was my fault. When your hand came towards my neck... I guess my body just sort of reacted too it like it was him again. Not that I think you're him, Mr Jensen. I don't."

Mr Jensen nodded. "Thank you for sharing that with us, Justin."

"Uh, you're welcome?" he said, though it did not feel like an appropriate response.

"Is there anything else you'd like to tell us, now that we're having this conversation?"

Justin thought of the 3 grams of heroin hidden under his nightstand. "No. Not a thing."

 

-

 

Clay came into his room later that same evening.

"How did it go?" he asked.

Justin looked up at him from where he was busy with homework. English was really testing his limits, today. "The talk with your parents? Okay. Told them about the time I almost was strangled to death by my mom's boyfriend."

"You _what_?" Clay asked, his eyebrows shooting so high up they almost reached his hairline.

"I didn't say it like that," he said. "And that happened right before I ran away, so it's been a while. Figured it was the least worrying thing to say, too."

Clay shook his head. "I don't think I want to know what qualifies as worse than almost being strangled to death."

"It was provoked, not just something that happened."

"That doesn't really make it sound better."

Justin sighed and closed his book. English would have to wait.

"Listen, there's a lot of things I'll never tell you, nor will I tell your parents. Trust me, as bad as what I _do_ tell makes things sound, it's not that bad." _Nothing was as bad as what I did on the streets anyway._ "And it's over now. My mom skipped town so I won't have to deal with her or her boyfriends anymore."

Clay looked at him for a long moment. It looked like he wanted to ask him something. He shook his head. "If you say so. My parents just worry. I... I worry, too."

Justin could not help but take the moment to light the tension some. "Aww, Clay Jensen worrying about me? How adorable."

"Fuck off," Clay said, though he smiled. "We're supposed to be brothers now, or whatever. I kind of have to care."

Justin grinned. "That's awfully nice of you. Can I get back to English, now?"

"Yeah, sure." Clay went up to leave, but stopped before he was out the door. "Just remember you can tell us anything right? Even the stuff you feel like is too much for us."

"I'll keep it in mind," Justin said. It almost felt like a promise.

 


	7. 7

He was alone with Sheri in his room, working on a project together, when he finally built up courage to ask a question that burned in his gut ever since he came back.

"Sheri, can I ask you something?"

She hummed in an affirmative tone, but did not look up from the script she wrote for the presentation.

"Back when Tony and Clay went to get me... why did you help me out?"

Sheri stopped typing. "It was mostly for Jessica," she started, which, alright. Why did he even ask? "But also because... well, I felt you deserved some help. No one deserves to be addicted to heroin. I wanted to help you get out of it for your own sake, too. Also, withdrawal is a bitch."

Instead of hanging onto the _you deserved help_ he focused on the last part. "I know withdrawal is a bitch, which is why I still don't get why you guys didn’t give up on it. Especially you."

"You got experience with withdrawal?" she asked, her eyes squinted curiously.

Justin scoffed. She heard the same rumours everyone else did. "You know I grew up with an addicted mom."

"Yes," she said. Her voice was careful, like it walked on eggshells. "What was she like?"

"During withdrawal?" he asked. "Depended. Sad, violent, clingy... I went to school once and told them because she scared me so much. I was six and piss scared of my mom. It was the biggest mistake of my life, though. Foster care for weeks. When she sobered up and I got to live with her again she was _not_ happy. It didn't last, either. She's still an addict."

Sheri hummed again, sounded thoughtful. Justin regretted speaking so much. She did not want to hear his sob story. He blamed it on her being so easy to speak to.

"I'm sorry you grew up with that shit," she said.

He smiled softly at her. Genuine. "Thanks. It's okay, though. Nothing you could've done."

Sher gave him a look. He wasn't sure how to take it. "Wasn't there anything anyone else could have done?"

"I told my teachers, you know how that ended up."

"I meant Bryce," she said. "He always knew, didn't he?"

Justin had to take a second to remember how to breathe. "He knew. I asked him not to tell anyone. Foster care isn't kind to everyone."

He looked at her again when she had no response. It was apparent she had gone back to their group project. Justin didn't mind. He was done talking about it, too.


	8. 8

Jessica came over to his locker at lunch. Justin was not hungry enough to go to the lunch room.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey," he responded. It did not feel very awkward, despite the fact that they had not spoken to each other a lot since he came back from juvie. It was always just a hi whenever they passed in the hall, or an exchange of words if their mismatched group of friends happened to hang with each other. Not that Justin minded much, he _didn't._ Jessica was with Alex.

She smiled softly at him. "How did it go with the project?" she asked.

"Fine, hopefully. I think Sheri's work will pull the grade up."

"I'm sure your part of it was great too," she said. Justin smiled at the compliment.

The hall was almost empty around them. Most students had gone to the cantina to eat their lunch. Jessica was still there.

"How are things with the Jensens?" she asked. He knew she wondered if he had opened up to them. She and Bryce used to be the only ones that knew any details of his home life, though even they didn't know as much as they thought.

"They're good. I've told them a few things."

She smiled again. "That's good, I'm glad. I'm glad you're doing better."

He looked at her properly for the first time. "What about you?"

"Me?" she asked. "Oh. I'm doing a bit better. Group therapy helps."

"I'm glad," he said, offered her a smile.

She took her phone out of her pocket and looked at the screen before speaking again. "There's still half an hour left of lunch. Will you join me?"

"Aren't you going to sit with Alex?"

She frowned. "Well, yes. But no one has seen you in the cafeteria for weeks. Hadn't it been for you eating at home, even Clay would have been worried."

"Fine," he said after a moment of hesitation. "I'll join you for lunch. But I didn't bring any food. Or money for food."

"No problem," she said. Now she smiled again. "I'll pay."

 


	9. 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning i have no idea how the system works in the states so i'm just sort of winging it here

He knew the Jensens had contact with his mother. Or at least their lawyer did. What he did not get was why no one had told him about it. The only reason he knew was because he overheard it. It did not really matter to him, anyway. He was not going back to her. Not only because he was sure he would be killed, but also because he wanted to finish high school in one piece. That would be hard to do if he ended up on the streets again.

It did become almost reality once he was called downstairs for a "talk". His first instinct was the heroin, again, but he knew no one had found it yet. Besides, it had been three days since his last shot. He was doing better.

"Come, sit down," Mrs Jensen said. He noted that she had papers in front of her as he sat down at the kitchen table.

He thought it might be good news if it was the adoption papers - they still wanted his mother to sign it if they ever got a hold of her - but when he saw the way Mrs Jensens shoulders were hunched, he put that away. Bad news.

Mr Jensen sat down by the table as well. "Justin... We hoped it would not come to this, but... we got a hold of your mom. We asked her to sign off her parental rights, but she refused."

He frowned. Refused? "That doesn't make any sense," he said. Why would she want to keep the parental rights? He was sure she skipped town when he told her to, and there was no way she was coming back when she knew Seth was around. What was she doing?

"This is going to be hard, but we'll fight to keep you here," Mrs Jensen said.

"Thanks," he said. He felt a surge of anger in his chest, followed by longing for another high. _Fuck_. "Can I, uh, go upstairs now?"

Mr Jensen smiled. "Yes. Your social worker will want to talk to you. We'll set up a meeting for tomorrow, alright?"

"Yeah, that's fine," he said.

He went back upstairs before they could talk to him more, desperate to get some breathing room. He wasn't aware how hard he slammed the door until Clay came inside his room.

"You okay?" Clay asked, took tentative steps towards him after closing the door.

Justin, who had barely had time to sit down on the bed, nodded. "They found my mom. She won't sign the legal papers."

Clay sat down on the bed. "So what happens now?"

"I don't know," he said. He sighed. "I don't get why she won't give away her parental rights. It's not like she's given a fuck before. I ran away for months, I could have been _dead_ , and she didn't care enough to go to the police, but now she wants to fight to be my mom? Fuck."

Clay nodded. He looked unsure of what to say and Justin didn't blame him. "But your mom is an addict, right? Uh, no offense. They'll find her unfit to be your mom."

Justin sighed. "Unless she's sober, in which case I'll live with her again. I can't go back to her. Though, I should have seen it coming. She pretended to be sober and good when I was little to get me back."

"Trust my parents," Clay said. "They won't let you go." He paused for a moment, looked unsure. "I won't let you go either. You're my brother now."

Justin felt like crying.

 

-

 

The next day he had to skip class to meet his social worker. Both the Jensens met him there and followed him inside. His social worker, a short and round woman named Tessa Valdez, let them in almost immediately.

"We'll get right to it," Mrs Valdez said once they settled down. "Justin, your mother wants to keep her rights as your parent. She has disclosed her location to us - she lives in Washington. There might be no other possibility than you moving to her."

Justin refrained from rolling his eyes. Of all the places, Washington was not where he expected her to go. "Is there nothing you can do?"

She smiled sadly. "We're trying to fight for you. We'll take it to court if we have to. First order of business is to see if she is fit to be your parent."

Justin nodded along as she spoke. He would have to tell her everything that could be used against his mother, including her track record of boyfriends.

"If it goes to court you will have to speak on the stand," she added carefully. "I know that can be hard."

"No," he said. It wouldn't be hard. Sitting in the box talking about what Bryce did to Jessica, _that_ was hard. This would be a piece of cake. "I can do it."

Mrs Jensen smiled at him. "Do you want us to go outside while you talk?"

"No, that's okay," Justin said. "It's nothing you can't hear, anyway. Ask away, Mrs Valdez."

Mrs Valdez began a twenty-questions like round, asking about the drug abuse and her boyfriends.

"Did she ever physically hurt you?" Mrs Valdez asked a few questions in, after the basics were over. He had told them a bit of what her boyfriends tended to do, and her drug abuse. Not the whole story, however. There was things he would never share with anyone, even to keep his mother away from him.

He was reluctant to answer this. She had on multiple occasions, but she wasn't herself in those moments. "She wasn't herself," he started, which he soon realized was the wrong way to phrase it. He could feel the Jensen's eyes on him. "I mean, she _did_ , a few times, but nothing very serious, and it was only whenever she had a bad high."

Mrs Valdez looked like she wanted to argue. "Were you ever scared of her?"

"I used to be when I was younger. I'm not scared now," he said, though that was a bit of a lie. He was scared she would not have any more drugs left, was scared whenever she enabled her boyfriends' violence.

The process went on like this, Mrs Valdez writing down anything that a court could use against her if it came to it.

Hopefully she wouldn't win.


	10. 10

He knew Clay noticed the twitching as soon as he came downstairs. Justin was busy with homework by the kitchen table, and Clay came down to get something to eat. No one else was home, so Justin had not bothered to hide the twitching yet. He regretted that as soon as Clay laid eyes on it.

Justin continued his homework as if nothing was going on, refused to spare even a glance at Clay as he went through the fridge.

"How did the social worker thing go?" he eventually asked.

Justin looked up. Clay's head was still in the fridge. "It went alright."

It didn't. Clay's parents gave him a look that became more and more pitying for each word he said. He had to share things that was hard - though he barely scratched the surface and danced over the details. It took him down memory lane, and it had been nine hours and ten minutes since his last fix. He itched for more.

He put the hand with twitching fingers down on his lap. He felt sweaty and gross. Did Clay notice?

Clay took yogurt from the fridge and sat down by the table. "It doesn't look like it."

Justin snorted, said nothing. He hoped Clay wouldn't lecture him about heroin, again, like he knew anything about what it was like being addicted to it. _Nine hours and twelve minutes_.

"Well, it did. I said things that made your parents sad, which I guess was the whole point anyway. Sad things so that they will find a reason to keep me here."

"They already got reasons to keep you here," Clay said.

Justin sighed. He felt a cramp building up in his stomach. "Not... not like _that_. I meant my social worker. But it went well, anyway. I'm fine."

Clay sighed, the disappointed sigh that Justin heard from Mrs Jensen sometimes. "Justin, I'm not blind. Your fingers have been twitching since I walked in. You want another fix, don't you?"

"I'm not going to," he said. "I don't even have anything here."

Clay looked suspicious, but he let it go. "I'm gonna believe you. Don't make me regret it."

"I won't," he said, the words leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. "I promise."

 

-

 

"Insensitive question incoming."

Justin looked up from his maths homework to see Clay standing in the doorway. "What?"

"I got an insensitive question. Where did you find the money to buy heroin on the streets?"

Justin went back to his homework. He doubted stealing would be a sufficient enough explanation, and he would never tell him about the sexual favours.

"You didn't, like, do anything bad?"

Justin looked at him again. "What qualifies for you as bad?"

Clay shrugged. "I don't know? Stealing money, selling things you stole, uhm.... prostitution..."

He looked lost as to what other options there was, but when Justin refused to meet his eyes he backtracked.

"Wait, you didn't... did you...?"

Justin sighed. "Why are you're digging so much, anyway?"

He went back to the homework on his bed, hoped Clay took the hint and left him alone, even though he came with a question.

"I'm just curious," Clay stated. "And... well, I would think living on the streets is pretty traumatizing."

Justin snorted. "Living on the street was hardly the most traumatizing thing I've experienced."

Wrong thing to say, from Clay's reaction, but also the truth. _Living_ there was not too bad once he got used to it. It was all the things he had to do that was bad.

"Do you mean, like... was your home life worse?"

Justin reached his limit. As much as he hinted, most of the time not on purpose, he did not want to go into details - did not want to be like a _victim_. Besides, _his_ home life had not been too bad. He knew people who had it worse - Monty, for one.

"Clay," he warned. "I'm trying to do homework."

Clay raised his hand in surrender. "Alright. But, if I've learned anything from the past year... talking to people is the good call."

Justin let him know that he knew that by a simple nod, and finally he was left alone in his room.

 


	11. 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for lots of mentions of rape and some denial
> 
> my take on bryce and justin's fucked up friendship  
> fuck bryce he can go die

"What about your friend, Bryce?"

Justin looked up at his therapist, eyes narrowed defensively. He was not liking where this conversation was heading. Ms Clearwater, or "Amelia" as she wanted him to call her, had been his therapist since juvie. She of course knew about Bryce and that while Justin was thrown away he had been able to walk free.

Other than that, and their friendship, she was as clueless as everyone else about Justin's relationship to him.

"What about him?"

"Were you good friends with him?"

Once upon a time, maybe. "We've been best friends since we were kids. At least I thought so."

"What do you mean?"

Justin shrugged. "I don't know," he said, though he certainly did. It was not something he liked to talk about to anyone. For three years he'd been able to keep the secret. That was not about to change now, even if getting it off his chest would take some of that itch away.

Ms Clearwater gave him a look, like she saw right through him.

"Did he ever hurt you?" she asked.

Justin wrapped his arms around his middle, refused to look at her. He could tell she wanted to go on a rant about how _it's important that you hold no secrets from me, because if you do i cannot help you_ , but he had already heard that one at least ten times. There was no need for an eleventh.

"Justin."

He bit his lip and stared to the ground. "He didn't _hurt_ me. Not like... not bad," he started. His voice felt incredibly weak. How long had it been since his last shot?

"What did he do?" she asked, always patient.

He felt it rise to the surface, things he had tried to forget about since it happened the first time. He pulled at his collar, his foot shaking restlessly.

"When we were fifteen... well, I was fourteen, he-" Justin snapped his mouth shut and straightened up a bit so he could lean forwards. _Fuck_ , why was it so hard to say? He cleared his throat and wrapped his arms around his middle again. "I'd been leeching off of the Walkers for years by then, and he... he decided it was time for me to pay up, but I didn't have any money and he knew that. So he asked- demanded, maybe, that I... that I, uh, sleep with him."

Ms Clearwater, bless, did not even look a little bit surprised at this, and it was enough to ease a bit of the nerves. "He sexually abused you."

Justin nodded. He had not seen it as that at the time, but after what he did to Hannah and Jessica, and countless other girls, he finally understood. Though, he didn't think he was quite ready to call it _rape_ yet. He did consent to it, and though it was always forced and he never enjoyed it, it felt like too much to use that word. Ms Clearwater would have a lot to say about that if he ever said what he thought out loud.

"How long did he do this?" she asked.

Justin rubbed at his eyes, annoyed at himself for crying. "Erm, since I was fourteen and up until about when I ran away."

"He has not touched you since?"

Justin rubbed his neck next. "At prom."

Ms Clearwater wrote in her notebook and then folded her hands over it. "How do you feel about it now?"

Justin managed not to roll his eyes. How did he feel? Fucked up. Used. Like a whore. Forget the streets, he'd been fucking for shelter and food for years before he winded up homeless on the streets of Oregon. But most of all, he felt-

"Regret."

 

 

-

He was surprised at how he managed a week without heroin. With all that was going on in his head since last session all he wanted to do was dive right back in. Somewhere in his mind he thought that he should feel proud of himself, but all he could feel was emptiness. He felt gross and he couldn't stop thinking about it. 

Hanging out with his friends behind the bleachers after school was tiring. He hadn't felt like being around anyone all week, felt too gross, but they gave him no choice. It was better than going home anyway. Here he had a distraction. At home he only fell asleep, and then the dreams came. He didn't dream of anything else when he first fell asleep.

No one noticed how quiet he had been before Clay pointed it out.

"Hey Justin, what's going on?"

Justin proceeded to shove his hands into his pockets. Had Clay noticed his hands shaking for another fix? "Nothing."

Even Alex looked like he did not believe him, judging by the look he sent Jessica. Justin quickly looked away. _Jessica._ He had not been able to as much as look at her since his last session. Consent or not, he had fucked Bryce behind her back for the duration of their relationship. He'd cheated on her with the monster that hurt her, even _after_ it happened. If she knew... God, he didn't know. She would hate him for being so horrible, for being so weak he let Bryce take advantage of him like that. None of them would understand, come to think of it.

At one point he'd wanted to tell her. Before the tapes and juvie. He wanted to break down and beg for forgiveness he knew he would not get.

"You know you can talk to us," Sheri called out. Her brows were furrowed and her arms crossed, mirroring most of the others.

His hands began to shake and he had to concentrate not to cry. What the hell was wrong with him? Just this conversation made it feel like those hands were crawling all over his skin. He could almost feel that voice whisper in his ear. _Don't tell anyone, it's our secret._

Something grabbed his shoulder and it felt almost too real. He had to remind himself that Bryce wasn't here, he _wasn't_ , but for a moment it felt like those hands were on his throat again, making it hard to breathe. Another too real hand was on him and it felt like something knocked the wind out of him, and he could not get the voice out - _please stop Bryce, please don't, please don't, i don't want to_ \- and he ripped the hands away, finally felt the pressure leave him, though that had been way too easy, Bryce usually-

Oh. _Oh._ He looked up, could barely see through the fog in his eyes. Had he just-

"Justin."

He had. He just said that all out loud. Fuck. Fuck _fuck_. His face burned red as his vision finally cleared up. They were all staring at him, confusion and pity filling their eyes at the same time. He met Jessica's eyes. She had tears in her eyes. Someone reached out for him, repeated his name - was it Zach? - but all he could see was Jessica and  _she hates me, right? That look in her eyes-_

Justin bolted. 

 


	12. 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wanted to post this now lol  
> justin and jessica is having a conversation, takes place literally like five minutes after the previous chapter
> 
> tw for talk about rape

It might have been the worst high Justin ever had in his short miserable life. Not trusting himself with heroin, he instead took from the secret stash of pot by the dumpsters in the back of the school. Barely anyone went there outside of throwing garbage away, so he would hopefully be left in peace.

With his luck it did not last. He heard footsteps closing in, hoped to the heavens that it was not Clay. Some part of him wanted the others to follow him after he ran off, but the other, bigger, part of him wanted them to fuck off. The footsteps stopped about a metre from him, but he did not look up. Instead he took another drag of the joint, consequences be damned.

"Justin?"

Fuck.

"Can I sit down?"

He shrugged. Jessica sat down on his right. He snuck a glance at her, but she was not looking at him. She had wisely chosen not to comment on him smoking weed.

"What you said back there... I know it was, like, a panic attack or something, but..."

"It was a memory," he confirmed. He took another drag.

She gave him something that resembled a smile, but came out more like a grimace. "Are you okay?"

"Not really."

"Did Br- did he hurt you too?"

Justin did not like where this conversation was heading. He desperately wished that what he was smoking would give him a high that made him ignorant of everything. He needed something stronger.

"He did for a few years, but... I sort of consented."

He did not need to look at her to know she was giving him a strange look. "Sort of?"

"Well, I owed him. He gave me food and clothes. I didn't want to, but I owed him."

"You don't _owe_ anyone sex, Justin. Ever. He... he manipulated you. He did what he always does; prey on people he thinks of as weak."

"I know I was weak."

"No, Justin, I-"

"No, you're right Jess. I was weak the first time he did it, and I've been weak ever since. I let him."

"You weren't weak. He knows how to manipulate. He's a monster."

Justin hated this. Here Jessica was, defending him, putting all blame on Bryce. He did not deserve it. "We fucked while I dated you."

Silence. Justin took a drag, noticed that his hands were shaking. He wasn't sure what he was doing. Did he want Jessica to hate him? Apparently. He threw away the joint. It didn't give him a high, so there was no point.

"I'm sorry."

"It wasn't your fault," she said. She sniffled. Was she crying?

"I could have chosen not to. If I had been stronger, or put up a bigger fight, or, or..." He didn't know what more to say.

"It's not more your fault than me being raped was my fault," Jessica said.

Justin looked up at her now. "Jess..."

"I know it's hard to realise," she continued, not bothering to wipe the tears that fell from her eyes, "but you know Bryce is a monster. Whatever nice things he did to you does not weigh up for him... for him raping you."

He looked away, face burning. "Don't... don't use that word."

"What? He _did_ Justin. He raped you and I- fuck. I didn't even _know_. For fucking years. I was your girlfriend, I should have known."

"I didn't want you to," Justin interrupted. All the things that gnawed at him while he dated her came rushing back. "I was too ashamed for letting him use me like some toy. Too scared you would leave me."

Jessica glared, as if insulted by what he said. "I would never leave you for something like that."

He did not know what to say, so he shrugged. Jessica gnawed at her bottom lip. "When did he stop?"

Justin closed his eyes. _This_ would make her hate his sorry ass. He slept with both of them the same night. This had to be the last straw for her.

"Last prom. After we... he found me in the hallway. He said it was a _good bye gift_." He could still remember how much he shot up that night. He almost choked to death on his own puke. Part of him wished he had.

"Can I hug you?"

Justin snapped his eyes to her, nodded weakly. She put her arms around him. It took him a second before he hugged her back. Tears burned his eyes and soon he could not hold it back. He buried his face in her shoulder. He didn't deserve this.

"I'm so sorry, Jess."

She rubbed his back. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

 


	13. 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> clay and justin have the conversation

Justin sat on the floor of his room, as he had for the past four hours. His hands were wrapped tightly around his middle, fingers digging harshly into his side. It would probably bruise, but that was the better alternative.

In front of him laid all the things he needed to take a shot of heroin. So far he had not touched it, though he very much wanted to. When the urge rose he dug his fingers harder into his sides. The talk with Jessica yesterday had helped a little, up until he fell asleep and woke up silently screaming. He could not remember what he dreamt, it was so full of things, like his whole life was on repeat. Mainly he could still feel hands all over his body, hurting him.

Getting high was so tempting.

He barely reacted when the door to his room opened and quickly closed.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

Clay's voice snapped him partly out of it. He was able to look at him, though that action alone took all his strength. Clay looked mad, fists clenched on his sides. "Justin."

"I haven't touched it." His voice was barely audible.

Clay came closer and bent down. "How long have you had this shit?"

Justin shrugged.

"I'm gonna take it away."

Clay took the things and put it on the bed so it was no longer in Justin's line of sight. It helped a little.

"Is this about yesterday? Jess said she talked to you, but she didn't want to tell us about what."

Justin let his hands fall into his lap. They were shaking. "You all heard what I said yesterday."

"Yeah." Clay sat down on the floor, cross-legged across from him. "Did Bryce, like, beat you up or something?"

Justin snorted. "If only."

Clay frowned. "What do you mean?"

Justin wiped his eyes. Fuck, what was with the tears lately? He did not understand why he was suddenly so weak about this, when he had been just fine for years. He'd already told someone about it two times - one would imagine it got easier.  

"He, uh... he wanted me to pay something back for leeching off his family for years. I was fourteen, dirt poor. I didn't have anything to pay back, so he... he wanted me to pay back by letting him fuck me, and he never really stopped."

Justin did not dare to look at Clay, too scared what his reaction would be. He knew his stance on those kinds of things, but that was with the girl he loved. Justin hardly mattered to him outside of the whole _we are sort of brothers so we have to care_ thing.

A loud bang made him flinch and hide his face. He realised belatedly that it was Clay punching the floor. Justin almost wished he'd taken that shot so that he lost the edge he felt. Flinching like that was something he had not done for weeks now. It made him look weak.

"Sorry," Clay said.

Justin said nothing.

"I'm going to kill him."

Justin shook his head. "He's transferred, doesn't even live here anymore."

"So what? I'll track him down and kill him."

Clay rose to his feet and Justin struggled to grab his leg. Finally he caught his ankle and held him back.

"Clay, please don't. I don't want people to know. I don't want to give him more leverage."

For a moment it looked like Clay wanted to murder Justin - he boiled that down to the fact that Justin was the only person he could point his look to - but soon he looked away.

"You should go to the police."

Despite the lack of energy, Justin managed a laugh. It was cold, humourless. "Are you kidding? Whatever I have on Bryce, what he has on me is worse."

Clay kicked the bed, his face red. "Fuck!"

Clay grabbed the things on the bed and ran out of the room. Justin hugged his knees to his chest and pressed his face into his kneecaps. Alone, again. At least the heroin was gone.

 

 


	14. 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well since christmas is getting closer
> 
>  
> 
> also happy christmas, if u open christmas presents the 24th you celebrate christmas correctly

Tension was high at the dinner table. Despite his better judgement, Justin had gone down to enjoy dinner Saturday night. Clay was still angry at the whole Bryce situation, and it had caused a shift in their relationship. He still acted normal with Justin, but he could tell Clay dwelled too much on whether to kill the bastard.

Not that Justin really minded, but he could not have Clay going to jail for his sake.

Lainie and Matt (Justin had finally taken on to use their names) had definitely noticed it. They kept stealing glances at the two of them for the duration of dinner. Justin barely touched his food, as had been the case since his therapist made him bring up his relations to Bryce.

In addition to that it was the first of December, and he knew they thought it was supposed to be a happy and festive day.

"Justin, aren't you hungry?" Lainie asked.

Justin put on the best smile he could muster. It had to be weak, even for his standards. "Sorry, I'm just... I don't feel very well."

Lainie looked suspicious, but Matt spoke before she could. "So, boys, are you looking forwards to Christmas?"

"Are we celebrating with Aunt Betty this year?" Clay asked, resentment in his tone.

"Watch that tone, Clay Jensen," Lainie warned. "As a matter of fact we are not, though we are still visiting her."

Justin wondered what his role would be when Christmas came closer. It had never really been a _thing_ for him.

"Then I am looking forwards to Christmas, yes," Clay said. He smiled now. They could all tell that Lainie was suppressing an eye roll, though she was also smiling.

"What about you, Justin?" Matt asked through a mouthful of carrots.

Justin nodded. "Yeah, of course. Christmas is really, really... uhm, fun."

They exchanged looks and Clay rolled his eyes. Was he really that bad of a liar?

"Did you celebrate Christmas at home?" Lainie asked.

Justin thought back to last Christmas, when he had hidden in his room while listening to his mom and Seth fight in the living room. He got a black eye for asking if they got any Christmas food, and two hours on the cold front steps. Though, he did hear Christmas music from the neighbour's house while he sat out there, so he wouldn't be lying if he said yes.

"Sort of," he said.

Matt smiled. "How?" he asked innocently, like he was expecting a response filled with happy memories from Christmas times. Maybe they expected some cliché _we didn't have money, but we had each other_ crap like in the movies. Though...

"Nothing much," Justin began, "chilling with, uh, music and cookies for the most part."

Which was not far from the truth. They used to do this when he was younger, before the worst boyfriends came along.

Lainie gave him a small smile. "That sounds nice."

Beside him Clay snorted. Justin side-eyed him. Could they _pretend_ he wasn't lying his ass off for once?

Justin put down his knife and fork, put his hands in his lap. "Can I be excused from the table?"

Lainie wrinkled her forehead, tilted her head slightly. "You've barely eaten anything. Take a few-"

"Go, Justin," Matt interrupted. "Get some rest."

Justin shot him a thankful smile and ventured upstairs. He definitely needed whatever sleep he could get.

 

-

 

Justin had managed to get a few hours of restless sleep when someone knocked on his door. He sighed and sat up on his bed, leaned on the headboard.

"It's open."

In came Lainie, two cups in her hands. From the smell it had to be hot chocolate. She gave him a tentative smile and raised the cups. "Hot chocolate?"

"Yes, thank you."

He took one of the cups out of her hand and took a sip. It tasted amazing, reminded him of a time when his life was slightly less shitty and his mother knew how to be a mom. Well, _his_ definition of a mom, anyway. Most would disagree with him.

"Good?"

"Yeah," he said. "You can sit down. I know you want to talk to me."

Lainie sat down on the bed. "You know you can come to me about anything, Justin. I trust you will when needed, but I just have to ask... what relationship did you use to have with Christmas?"

He sighed and folded his hands around the cup, didn't care for the slight burn on his hands. "Complicated. I didn't look forwards to it."

"So the cookies and music...?"

"It wasn't a total lie," he defended. "Before my mom got all those crazy boyfriends she _did_ occasionally know how to act like a mom. We used to love Christmas. But, well... it hasn't really been a thing since I was little. Couldn't afford decorations or gifts or fancy food, so we didn't bother."

She nodded, stared thoughtfully at her cup. "Do you want to celebrate Christmas?"

He stared at his hot chocolate.

"I know it is supposed to be a time for family, and you might not quite see us as that yet, and that's okay." She put a hand to his knee, and strangely he didn't feel like pulling away. It felt oddly comforting. Tears pressed at his eyes. "We will not shut you out of our celebrations, but we will not force you to something you're not comfortable with, okay?"

He sniffled, tried not to make it obvious he had to force tears back. Lainie noticed, of course. She always noticed.

"Oh, come here," she whispered. Without warning she pulled him into a hug. He welcomed it.

"Thank you, Lainie. Seriously. Thank you."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the convo at the end got awkward but i wasnt sure how to do it  
> ill edit it later if i figure it out  
> (pls point it out if u see it pls)


End file.
